


one for the road

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Kissing is the gateway.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63
Collections: Daily Deviant





	one for the road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/gifts).



> written for daily deviant’s 2019 kinky kristmas comment kink & originally posted [here](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/10426.html?thread=50618#cmt50618). enjoy!

_**March, 1976.** _

Sirius stares at his bedroom’s ceiling, blanket thrown haphazardly across his half-naked body as he stretches. Yawns. He’s barely been home a day and he’s already counting down the seconds before he gets to leave again. He should probably go down to breakfast soon, he thinks, but makes no move to do it. His mind is preoccupied with other things. With the dream he’s just woken up from. With _Remus._

His gaze trails over familiar walls, down to the red-gold flag stuck above his bed. He blinks. Thinks of Hogwarts, the Commons, the dorm room: red and gold scattered everywhere. Thinks of the way Remus looks in his old Quidditch jersey: BLACK printed on the back in big, block, letters, the red-gold sweater falling off Remus’ shoulder, two sizes too big. He’d been wearing it, when they had their first kiss, just before he’d left; as James was out annoying Evans and Peter still asleep. It hadn’t been romantic, exactly, or ground-breaking or extravagant, like Sirius sometimes liked to imagine it would be, but it’d been _theirs_ , and that’s really all that matters, Sirius thinks. His brain’s been stuck on it since. 

“I’ll be seeing you, then,” Remus had said, as he’d stood in the dorm’s doorway, still dressed in his pyjamas with his hair a mess. Sirius had stared; tried not to, failed. He loves the way Remus looks when he’s half asleep: bleary eyed and rosy-cheeked, sleeves pulled down past his fists, hair sticking up in a way that puts James’ to shame. It’s so inviting, really. _Warm_. Like home, Sirius thinks, except, well. Not like _home_. 

“Yeah,” he’d answered. “Yeah.” 

It’d been stilted. Awkward. They’d been on a date the week before, on the last Hogsmeade weekend of term. A not-quite-a-date date. A we’re-not-going-to-use-the-word-date-but-everyone-knows-that’s-what-it-is date. It hadn’t really gone anywhere, but Remus had held his hand on the walk back to the castle, and they’d made plans, sort of, to do it again during break. He still damns the bloody owl that’d come three days later, the stupid family crest that branded the paper, the matching letter sent his brother’s way. He hadn’t even wanted to leave; still doesn’t want to be here. What does he care, really, if some third cousin he barely knows the name of had died? But then Regulus had _asked_ , almost pleaded, and, well. Well. 

“Look, uh,” Remus had said, and Sirius had waited, held his breath. Then—

Lips, soft and wet, against his own. A warm, calloused hand curling around his neck, clipped nails digging against the skin, clinging, keeping him in place. The other had gone to his shirt, had twisted in the fabric, pulled him close. Sirius had stilled, shocked, but only for a second. He’d melted in the next: body going lax as tension drained from his muscles, mouth pliant beneath Remus’ as he’d kissed back, his own hands bunching around his old jersey, against Remus’ waist, his eyes shut and body on fire as they’d kissed until they were both out of breath. 

He was panting when they pulled apart; not far, but enough to press their foreheads together, for their breath to mix, hot and damp, for Sirius to see the flutter of Remus’ eyelashes. “I—” Remus had started to say, but it’d sounded too much like an apology, so Sirius had leant forward again, grip tightening, one hand slipping beneath the jersey to clutch at Remus’ hip, caught between not wanting to hurt him and wanting to cling for his life. 

Sirius groans, soft, as he remembers the heat of Remus beneath his hands, in his arms. The lines of his body against his own. The way his nose had filled with Remus’ scent: a mellow hint of mint toothpaste and vaguely floral shampoo. He’s hard beneath the blanket. Had woken up this way: hot and bothered with fire pooling his stomach. He can’t help it. He gives in; twists to retrieve the hidden lube he’d brewed himself and gathers some in his palm before using his other hand to push the elastic of his pants beneath his balls. He reaches for his cock, strokes in slow, steady circles, a hiss escaping between his teeth. 

He quickens his pace, already leaking. Thinks of Remus’ mouth when they’d pulled apart a second time: lips parted, bright red, lightly bruised. They were wet, slick with Sirius’ spit, and Sirius can’t help but imagine them stretched around the head of his cock, Remus’ eyes open wide as he looks up, swallows him whole. Sirius moans again, louder this time, a string of swears escaping him. He wants to lie Remus down and kiss every inch of his body. He wants to kiss, lick, touch him until they’re both moaning, panting, messes. He wants to _please_ Remus, any and every way he can. Wants it _all._

Sirius sobs, body tight with pleasure. His hand jerks at an erratic pace, messy in his desperation. He thinks of Remus’ tongue in his mouth and the hint of teeth on his bottom lip. Thinks of kissing down Remus’ jaw, neck, chest. Thinks of his dream: Remus a withering mess of want as Sirius licked along his abdomen, the promise of _more_ heavy in the air. When he comes, it’s to the fantasy of him and Remus in bed together, bodies hot, sweaty, _intertwined_. Come splatters his hand, his stomach, the sheets, but he can’t find it in him to care as he melts into the mattress; hazy and elated in the aftermath. He promises, silently, to himself, that the first thing he’s going to do when he gets back to school is kiss Remus until they’re both desperate for air. 

His afterglow doesn’t last very long, the peace broken by a bang on his door and his brother’s voice shouting through the wood. “Hurry up!” Regulus calls, distant as he passes, and Sirius sighs as he kicks the sheets off him completely. 

_Two weeks_ , he thinks. He can manage that. 


End file.
